Sonic Overdoses on Heroin
by YungHeroin
Summary: After Amy left Sonic, his life took a self destructive turn. Today, Sonic stares his drug addiction in the face.


Shadow came by again today, right on schedule as always. Four PM on Tuesdays, and his routine punctuality always impressed me. Not that it mattered to me, I'm always here anyways, but I've come to know that the people in his line of work aren't always reliable. Sometimes I remember what it's like having to deal with weed dealers while I anxiously watch the clock inch closer to four on Tuesdays like these. I remember agreeing on a time and price, and watching the time come and go. I remember wondering to myself if sending two messages to the guy over a three-hour period would come off as desperate and imposing. Sooner or later, but most often later, the price would go as well. I'd get messages like,

"Hey, my normal guy is out so I have to go to Westopolis, gonna have to charge $50 an eighth this time, sorry man."

Or

"Hey, there's a lot of heat out today, I'm gonna have to raise the price due to the risk, sorry man."

And when the slimy bastard shows up, it's in a crushed White Owl wrapper and half of it is shake. He would then have the audacity to ask to sit and smoke, but he _never_ had his own, I'd always have to roll up with the shit he just sold me not five minutes ago. It's rare to find a reliable weed dealer, as not only is it accepted to dip into the stash, but it's damn near standard. Nobody who sells weed doesn't get stoned. But with heroin, it's not like that, or at least Shadow isn't like that. The hard drug dealers that start getting high are the ones that end up dead, in jail, or stealing shoes from dopesick junkies in rundown alleys.

Shadow knows this, and he knows that I know this, so he keeps his business as routine as possible. I'd known him for years, well before any of us got into smack, but we didn't have much to talk about anymore. Our only interactions are kept very short. I let him into the apartment, I hand him the money, he hands me the drugs, and sometimes he'd stay to watch me snort a line to make sure the quality is up to standard. Despite this, I considered Shadow my closest friend.

Today was just a bit different.

"Got any plans for the today?", and I told him I didn't. "Just lettin' ya know, I'm gonna be out of town for a week or so, so if you think you need any more I can be back in a few hours." I asked him to come by again to get me another dimebag, just in case. I had other contacts, but the thought of doing business with anyone but Shadow put me on edge, too many bad deals and skeevy motherfuckers. Just as he was walking out, I felt the need to stop him.

"Hey shadow," I called to him.

"Yeah?" He turned back around towards me, hand on the doorknob.

"Ah, never mind."

He reassured me that he'd be back later and to keep an eye on my phone and left.

I wanted to ask him advice on shooting up. I'd bought a pack of needles and the accessories, and I knew how to use them, but I figured he'd have some sort of advice on some precautions to take or something. I knew why I didn't ask though; I didn't want him to try and talk me out of it. I'd been on smack for a few years now, but I'd never been an intravenous user, always snorting. Smoking occasionally, but I'd always been put off by having to smoke out of a piece of aluminum. I understood the irony of this, as smoking a few aluminum particles can't be worse than smoking fucking heroin, but it weirded me out nonetheless. I've been around people shooting up, and I've had people offer to shoot me up, but I've always declined. I always told them I hated needles, which most people empathized with. Needles scare me, or at least they used to. I no longer care.

A line hardly gets me high anymore. I've had to become much more strategic about rationing my shit to get me through the day, and I can't afford just to start doing more. Unemployment hardly pays the bills, and I'm running out of assets I can make money with. Hell, I'd pawn the floor if I could. All the shit Amy got me were the first things to go. Jewelry, clothes, video games, all went just a couple weeks after she left me. It reminded me of her too much anyway. Probably got an eighth for all that. I could have got more if the pawn shop would have taken her artwork. There's not much left of my apartment, either. If I remember right, the last thing I got rid of was my coffee machine, and that $20 sure went to good use, right up my nose.

Shit.

The most expensive thing I have left is my phone, but I need that for obvious reasons. Maybe I could get one of those prepaid jobs. After I get that set up I'd probably make around $60 from selling this one. _Hm, that's some good money_. I thought of the week-or-so worth of heroin and chili-dogs that could afford me, I began to salivate. _Huh, I'm pretty hungry right now_. I played with the dimebag in my hand. Food can wait.

I sat up, emptying the contents of the wax paper onto the framed picture of Amy and I that I'd been using as a cutting tray. I've considered taking the picture out of the frame, but I've always found some bent humor in it's repurposing. I hardly notice the picture itself anymore, anyway. The substance resembled brown sugar, just as it always does, and I danced the razor blade through it admiring the quality. Shadow always knew how to spot a good product. Setting the picture down, I grabbed the bag of needles and opened it, and as I did so I could feel the anticipation building. My fingertips began to tingle, and I couldn't keep them still as I removed a needle from the bag and twirled it in between my fingers. I stared at the orange cap, tapping my foot and remembered protesting my mother about going to the doctor to get shots when I was a kid.

 _Maybe I should just snort this, I can still turn back._

What was a sure thought just twenty minutes ago had dissolved now that I actually held the needle, and I hadn't even taken the cap off. I looked back at the powder. _What if this is hotter than usual?_ Everyone's heard of fentanyl hitting the streets, and the Emerald Coast was no exception. I'm sure Shadow wouldn't have cut anything into it himself, and I trust his judgement to identify if what he was picking up had fenny in it, and I'm sure he would have told me if it did.

 _I should take a quick sniff just to be sure._ I loaded an amount the size of a pinhead onto my fingernail and inhaled, and immediately all my doubts were assuaged. After waiting a minute for it to set in, everything about the dose seemed normal. I looked back at the needle and the anxieties I had about shooting up were muted, for the most part.

 _Everything should be just fine_. I'd designated a spoon for this earlier, bent the handle for more leverage and everything, and went into the kitchen to retrieve it. I made sure to sterilize it in alcohol beforehand, although I'm not sure if it mattered considering I was about to heat it enough to kill all the germs on it. Sitting back down on the couch, I pulled the lighter out of my pocket. I looked at the lighter, then the spoon, then the drugs. Then back to the lighter, back to the spoon, and once again, back to the small mound of heroin on the picture frame. I felt like I was forgetting something.

 _Oh right, the cottonballs._ I had a fresh pack in the bathroom and got up to go get them. Just as I walked through the door, my phone began to ring. Is shadow coming back already? It had only been about a half hour since he left. Tails was calling me. _Wait, Tails was calling me?_ This was quite a surprise, I haven't spoken to him in months. We'd had a falling out shortly after Amy and I broke up, fueled by a stint I had with severe alcoholism. I won't get into specifics, mostly because I don't remember any of them. This call could be about anything. I picked it up.

"Hey Tails, what's up?", I said as neutrally as I could.

"Hi Sonic, it's… it's been a while." Tails responded.

"Sure has, huh. So, what's new?"

"Well, I just moved into a new place and got everything set up, and uh… y'know I'm having some people over tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come. Everyone's gonna be there, Knuckles, Silver, uh… yeah." There was overt trepidation in his voice, and I couldn't pretend like I didn't know why.

"Oh, cool, well congratulations on the move, is it better than your old apartment?"

"Yeah," Tails laughed shallowly. "It's a lot nicer than that dump. Well hey, I got a brand new projector TV and it's, like, two hundred inches across, it's crazy."

"Like the one we used to talk about?"

"Yeah! Just like it. So yeah, we're probably just gonna… play cards and watch a movie, have some 'za delivered or something… you busy tonight?"

I paused. One side of my brain was screaming at me to say yes, and the other to say no just as fervently. It really had been quite some time since I'd seen all of them and it would be great to catch up. On the other hand, Tails probably doesn't have any booze over there and I didn't want to seem like an asshole by asking. Plus, there's no way in hell he'd talk to me again if he found out I brought skag there.

"Uh… yeah, I think I'm busy for a while tonight. It could fall through though, why don't you text me the address in case I get time to stop by?" I began to massage at a vein in my left forearm.

"Alright, sure." Tails replied. "Just out of curiosity, do you… do you still see Shadow much anymore?"

My heart sank. "No, not really, I haven't seen him for a while. I think he's still, you know…"

"Yeah, I gotcha." There was another substantial pause. "Well if you find the time, you should stop by. It'll be great to catch up with everyone."

"It definitely will. Hey, if I can't make it tonight, are you gonna be around in the next few weeks or so?"

"Yeah, I have a week before I start this job, so I should be around pretty much anytime."

"Cool, I'll try and make time to stop and visit. For sure."

"Alright, awesome! Well… see ya Sonic."

"See ya".

I hung up the phone and sunk my head into my hands. _God dammit, I really do want to see him again._ My phone buzzed, and it was Tail's address. He'll be around later, I reassured myself.

 _He'll be around later._

I returned my attention to the paraphernalia, taking the razor blade and scooping up what I gauged to be about a third of a gram and dropping it into the spoon. After lighting a candle on the table in front of me, I held the spoon over the flame trying to keep my hands steady. I watched as the powder slowly began to melt, and eventually boil into a substance resembling warm caramel. I waited for the heroin to melt to an adequate consistency.

 _Fuck, all that shit's going straight into my veins._

I tore off a piece of a cotton ball and stuck it in the bubbling goop. The nervousness and agitation began to come back after I picked the needle back up, and I maneuvered the orange plastic cap off, revealing the 28 gauge needle. Fuck me man, I knew I had to just fucking do it before I could think myself out of it. I pressed the needle into the cotton and lifted the plunger, lifting the caramelized substance up into the syringe. I followed all the procedure I had learned, flicking the syringe to let air bubbles rise to the top like they do on TV, and I pressed on the plunger just a tad, squirting a small amount of the liquid out onto the floor.

 _Maybe I should set some ambiance,_ I thought, and I looked for the TV remote on the coffee table. There was no remote, and I remembered there was also no TV. _Shit, I sold that._ I thought I should put on a record. _Shit, I sold all my records and the stereo. I guess I can just listen to music on my phone._ _What's some good music to shoot heroin to?_ As stereotypical as it sounds, the first thing that came to my head was Lou Reed, and the first song that came up on Spotify was "Walk on the Wild Side". Right then, the gravity of what I'm about to do caught up to me. _I'm about to shoot heroin._ _But what better music to start with?_ Dear God, how many stories of downward spirals have begun with a heroin shot? I looked around at my empty apartment again, only the light from the candle and a light from the kitchen emanating from around the corner illuminated my barren surroundings. I realized then that this was far from the beginning of my downward spiral, but the needle that I held in my hand wasn't a downward spiral at all, it was a nosedive.

After pressing play on the song, that familiar baseline got me thinking straight again. I wondered how many people also shot up to these exact notes. If they can do it, I'll be fine. A belt sufficed as a tourniquet. I wrapped it snug around my left arm, twisted it, and kept tension with my teeth, watching as that vein in my forearm began to bulge.

Deep breaths.

It took all my concentration to grab the needle, and I took more deep breaths until my hands were steady enough to make a decent stick.

"I hate shots.", I said aloud as I pierced the skin with the needle.

 _Oh God, this is fucked_. Trying not to wince, I pressed the needle into the vein, or what felt like it. Lou began to sing the first verse.

 _Oh fuck me man, is it in? I'm pretty sure that's the vein, oh God._ I pulled up on the plunger to make sure I did hit the vein, and sure enough, blood began to flow into the syringe.

 _I'm gonna pass out, holy shit…_

Slowly, I pressed down on the plunger, biting the belt as hard as I could. A warm sensation took over the injection site. Just as Lou sang _hey babe, take a walk on the wild side,_ I released the tourniquet, and fell back onto the couch.

 _Oh my God._

The warmth grew as I felt it flow through my veins, and within seconds I felt it go to my head. I was right back there, right back to my first hit… but… so much _more._ This was instant. My… entire body was a hot tub, or an electric blanket. It felt divine, no, it _was_ divine. I was being cradled by Jesus himself. Lou Reed's chorus was beautiful, indescribable even. I can't believe that not even a minute ago I thought heroin couldn't get better than the first hit, but here I am.

Everything melted away. _This is… how I should feel. This is how everyone should feel! All the time! Just imagine, if…_

I couldn't care enough to continue that train of thought. I couldn't even open my eyes. All that mattered was me, my couch, and this song. All I was, was this couch and this song. I could feel my heart circulating the heroin all throughout my body.

How long had it been? It feels like hours had gone past. I couldn't open my eyes to check the clock. And then I realized that the first song wasn't even over.

 _I hope this lasts forever_.

Another song had started playing, and it sounded just fucking incredible. In fact, everything felt incredible. I love this couch. I love it so much.

 _Is this a dream? I can't feel myself breathing, so it must be a dream. Wait, there it is! I am breathing, just the tiniest bit. Awesome._ I felt something in my stomach. _Hm, I've been here before. I'm gonna puke aren't I? This could be an issue_. I could feel the mass in my stomach rising. _I'm gonna puke and I'm laying on my back, and that's… that's just fine. I've heard about this, I'm really supposed to be on my side. I'm gonna die, and that's fine. Everything is fine._

I began to heave.

 _Huh, I'm gonna die, that's… weird. I don't remember dying before…_

I could feel myself vomiting as I drifted off. My phone began to ring.

 _Oh, that's Shadow. He'll be here soon, with more heroin! That's… beautiful. Hopefully he can roll me over, that would be a real pal move of him. Any minute now, He'll be over to save me. Any… minute… now… So this is what it's like to die, dying's not so bad._

 _Wait, I'm dying._

 _Oh dear God I'm dying._

 _Oh no._


End file.
